


Day 27: Polyamory

by bzarcher



Series: Just Kinktober Things [16]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Home, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Multi, Poe has a seriously tragic and fucked up past if you think about it, Polyamory, jedistormpilot, monologues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2019-01-23 17:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12512500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher
Summary: Home is a very complicated word for each of them, for many different reasons, but Finn, Poe, and Rey learn to make their own.





	Day 27: Polyamory

_Home_ is a complicated word for all of them.

 

For Poe, home sometimes brought thoughts of his grandfather’s house, and the smells of tabacc and old leather.

Other times home was a tree growing on Yavin IV, and the feeling of being settled on his mother’s lap as she showed him how to make her old A-Wing dance.

Home was the peace of flying, and the way everything made sense there, at least.

Home was machine oil, tibanna gas, and the odd tang that shipboard air always seemed to have.

Home was BB-8, Snap, Pava, Karé, Wex, Iolo, L’ulo, and Oddy.

Home was all the people he trusted to have his back.

Home was a nearly empty ready room, when he realized how terrible the cost of stopping the First Order truly was.

Home is a place that Poe Dameron keeps losing.

 

Finn draws a blank when he is asked about a home.

Home was a place he was too young to remember when he left it.

Home was a family he never knew, and bonds he never had the chance to form.

Home was supposed to have been his crechemates, his squad, his division, but he’d either been too good or too different from the very beginning for that.

They told him home was Leader Snoke’s arms, and the peace the First Order would bring to the galaxy.

Home was training, drills, duty shifts and sleep rotations.

Home was obeying the orders of your Squad Leaders without question.

Home was trying to keep his eyes front and his blaster steady, even when part of him screamed that it was _wrong, wrong, wrong!_

If FN-2187 had a home, it was everything that Finn chose to walk away from.

 

Ever since she began to open herself to the Force, Rey has tried to dream of home.

She spent almost her entire life on Jakku, but it wasn’t home. Not really. When someone mentions the planet, it brings thoughts of desert sands, harsh winds, and the relentless suns, but never thoughts of home.

(The little place she’d made for herself inside that old AT-AT wasn’t home either, but it had been _hers_ , at least.)

Sleeping under the desert skies and looking at the endless fields of stars hadn’t been home, but it had been peaceful. When life aboard ship or in Resistance bases becomes too busy and loud, she thinks back to those times to help herself sleep.

Sometimes she thinks the _Falcon_ could be home, if she let it. Since the day she stole it, the old freighter seemed to welcome her, even if it had occasionally shown that welcome in busted relays and cracking conduits. She’d known Solo had been happy about how she’d thrown herself into the guts of his ship, and how she’d fallen in love instantly with the cranky, jury-rigged, _marvelous_ beast.  

(She doesn’t claim the ship as hers, even though Chewbacca gives her the Captain’s seat, and the General was insistent that she take it when she went to find Luke Skywalker. On some level, to her, it will always be Solo’s ship - even if she flies it for the rest of her life.)

Rey always hoped that someday she would know where her home was, but it had never occurred to her that home wasn’t actually going to be a _place_.

 

They never talked about it, exactly. It just _happened._

Finn and Rey had formed a bond from the moment they met in the marketplace, and it grew stronger even as it seemed like the entire galaxy was trying to kill them.

When Finn finally woke from his coma, Rey had known. Even if she wasn’t there, she had learned enough to reach out and touch his presence in the Force, and let him know that a part of her was still with him.

_I will see you soon._

Luke could not have missed the contact between them, but the old Jedi did not question or criticize it. He simply gave a little smile, nodded, and continued their lesson.

 

When she came back, Rey was not surprised to find Poe in Finn’s quarters, helping him with the exercises the medics had ordered him to perform.

Their time together had been brief, but from the stories Finn had told her, it had left quite an impression. After all, Poe had given Finn a name.

When she hugs Finn so hard that his ribs creak, Poe seemed uncertain about staying. Her solution was to give him just as long and hard an embrace, and to thank him for saving Finn, too.

“Well,” Poe had laughed softly, “I think he saved me, first.”

She liked that, and she said so. It made all of them smile.

When she talked to Finn about it later, he agreed that Poe had a _wonderful_ laugh, but the smile was even better.

 

What little Rey had learned of love had been from salvaged holonovels and snippets from the datanet. Odd gestures and courtship rituals that she didn’t feel she had the context for, physical mechanics that often came with warnings to guard herself warily from anyone who sought her body.

Finn, really, knew even less. Love was something the First Order demanded, but it did not allow any of its children to share.

They were both clumsy, at first. Awkward and uncertain, not quite sure they were doing any of it right, and somehow it just seemed natural to ask Poe for help. (Rey asked Luke _once_ , and he stuttered like a hyperdrive with a crosswired motivator.)

Poe had been the one to ask if their feelings were confined to each other, or if they extended to anyone else. Even though they’d both gone to him for advice, separately and together, it still surprised him when both of them had answered by pointing at him.

It still wasn’t simple, or easy.

Anything worthwhile never was.

 

Home is the smell of those Resistance officer jackets, and the way they mingle with faint odors of of ozone and lubricants from Rey’s deep need to tinker with any machine she finds.

Home is the herbs used in Poe’s shampoo (that Finn absolutely does not steal, he has no idea what you mean by that, resources are supposed to be _shared_ ), and home is the sharp citrus tang from the soap that Rey fell in love with the first time it made all the grease and sweat from a day’s work disappear from her hands.

Home is the way Rey carefully tends the plants that they give her as gifts, so she can always have something green nearby.

Home is how Finn cleans the fresher and kitchen every week out of long habit, and how he makes a point of carefully bagging and tagging all the little pieces and parts he finds from Rey’s latest project, and the way he services Poe’s blasters ‘just to keep in practice.’

Home is the music Poe listens to while he’s cooking, and the little things he introduces them to that he might take for granted, but he knows each of them have never experienced.

Home is the way none of them say _goodbye_ when duties or missions or training separate them, but they always say _see you soon._

Home is Poe sleeping curled on his side like a cat, and the way Finn settles on his back. Home is Rey somehow finding a comfortable position between them, and Poe muttering in the morning how the bunks weren’t really meant for more than one at a time.

 

Home is the way Rey’s kisses taste of cool waters and soft rain, and the way Finn smiles after each one. Home is Poe’s gentle, gifted tongue, and Finn’s enthusiasm to learn everything their love has to teach.

Home is soft groans and happy sighs, gasps of surprise and shudders of delight.

Home is nights where one just wants to watch, and the other two are happy to indulge them.

Home is times when they all just want to touch and be touched, be here, be reminded, be _alive_ , and not stop until they’ve all collapsed from exhaustion.

Home is the way Poe cries out when he is in ecstasy, and the little laughs and giggles they learn to tease out of him along the way.

Home is Rey’s quiet intensity, eyes closed, her head back, telling them with her body what she sometimes cannot with words.

Home is Finn sweating, gasping, shaking, and many times bursting into tears, but always ones of release and happiness, not fear or regret.

Home is no longer a place for any of them, but these moments together, and even when their bodies might be scattered among the galaxy, they carry their home within them all.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, not my usual neighborhood at all but I hope people liked this!
> 
> (How did I write 4 kinktober prompts yet have almost no actual smut?)


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